The Winner and the Survivor
by Nameless Girl of Manderley
Summary: Annie has won the Hunger Games, now she and Finnick both have to learn to live with their separate victories and the pain and destruction that comes with them.
1. Chapter 1

**The Winner and the Survivor**

* * *

There was nothing left to do but drown.

After she let her arms sink, her bones leaden and her fingers stinging; after her legs refused to pump her further onward or upward, she found comfort in the fact that she would die in the sea. Even if it wasn't the brilliant blue waters of her youth, or the harsh swell that she and Myrna used to play in as children, it was still, even for the briefest of moments as her eyes finally closed and her lips sunk into the frigged grey murk, a bit like her district—her home.

She couldn't say, afterward, how long she floated beneath the surface. Though she was sure she never fully lost consciousness. She remembered seeing Ril's face, frozen in a gasp of horror before the blade sunk into the back of his neck. Before his blood flew warm and blackish blue onto the rocks where he had been forced to kneel, and then later, when the second blow struck him and another hot spray slapped her across her own face, and she could taste the salt of it on her chapped lips. By then Ril was dead, his skin was ash white in the glow of the moon which was unnaturally big and full over his shoulder and his mouth was stretched in an unnatural oval—a scream of shock and pain.

Somewhere, wherever she was now, floating in the icy water, she thrashed. She could hear noises. Voices and bangs, and in her panic she couldn't tell if it was the sound of bones and skin ripping apart or her own scream afterward as she ran through the tree line to save her own life. Her terror was a thick rope tightening around her neck.

She wanted to sink further.

She wanted it to be over.

When the first cold grip of metal clamped around her she screamed, though the water took it without sound and her lungs were finally, _finally_, empty. The weight of the metal arm clawed at her, but as she tried to dart away, her instincts raw, but still working, she felt a second stretch of fingers encircle her, tugging tight until she was trapped.

There was no more air. When her lips parted to protest, her mouth filled with the icy black water all around her, weighing her whole body like a midnight veil. Opening her eyes she saw only shadow and death.

It was a shock when she hit the surface. The air was frigged and it hit her like a thousand needle points over her exposed skin. Gasping, she flung her head back. Her first surprise came with the floodlights which tore through the darkness, exposing her to hovercraft that was pulling her farther up out of the water and quickly into the air. The second surprise was the announcer's haughty and exalting voice echoing all around her, though she couldn't be sure of what he was saying. Behind her gasping and the ringing in her ears she could only make out every other word.

"…Cresta…Win—…Ger Games…"

She coughed and spluttered, letting her head loll to the side to expel the water that had so quickly filled her. Blinking, she could see she was farther into the air, just feet away from the hovercraft.

"Anne! Ladies and Gentlemen," the announcer bellowed. The voice sounded like it was coming from all around her now.

Her eyes were stinging and she closed them against the garish light; her entire body was quaking with the exertion of her coughing and the pain of the metal claws grip.

With a sudden gust and burst she felt hands pull her into the aircraft, and the restraining grip of the metal claw released her. She hit the floor with a hard slap, and suddenly so many hands were on her. She screamed and trashed but there were too many and when she opened her eyes she could see they were all around her. Their strange broken faces and their vacant, dissociated stares. They tried to pull a mask over her head but she growled and managed to free one arm enough to tear it off and fling it aside.

"She's fine." The voice was calm. Smooth as one of silken gowns that Virgilia and the rest of her team had dressed her in before the games. The reassurance of his statement seemed to appease the others around her and their grips slackened.

Her heart was pounding and once she was free she crawled crab-like into the corner where the light couldn't touch her. She felt alien to her own self, her thoughts racing, and her panic building like a cauldron about to boil over.

"See," he said. In control of the conversation like he always was. "Give her some space. She'll be fine."

When she opened her eyes she could see Finnick fully in the doorway to the cockpit before her, but he didn't come any closer to her than that. He held his palm up, placating. "Annie," he said slowly, keeping her eye contact, making sure she was alert and that she could understand him. "Annie, everyone else drowned, _you_ won…"

She slammed her palms against her ears and screamed.

* * *

A/N: I do not own the cover image. It can be found:

. /2012/06/beachbluegingergirloceanredhair-e427cb26af20bbf23069465fee9bce45_

Or the full site address:

2012/06/20/685/


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

* * *

As much as Finnick had calmed the others aboard the hovercraft before, he could do nothing to keep the crew from rushing at Annie once she screamed.

As they pulled her hands back from covering her ears she imagined what Virgilia and the rest of her prep team would have said to see her like this.

"_Decorum_, my dear," they would have insisted, scandalized by her behavior. "You _are_ from District 4, my dear. _Not_ district 12!"

Once they got hold of her wrists, she thrashed, but she was helpless to stop them from inserting the needle into the inside crook of her elbow. Annie remembered hearing herself protest, however meekly, and from somewhere far away she could make out Finnick's voice saying "_calm down_," but she wasn't sure if he was talking to her or to the crew.

Almost immediately, she knew she had been sedated. Her whole body shuddered, and her waterlogged clothes suddenly felt unbearably confining and heavy. She managed a feeble, "_please_," but her words were swallowed up by a sudden darkness that encroached all around her.

It was the eerie hum of the Capital bedroom she had occupied before the games that woke her.

In the slogging moments before her eyes flew open she remembered seeing the shriek of Ril's face before the blade struck him in the back of the neck. How the sound he made was like wet earth being trodden on, and the hot spurt of red blood that seemed to pour out of him and surround her; the pool of it growing bigger and wider.

Virgilia's creaky voice, like a violin out of tune, found her in the darkness of her own memories. "You're awake, dear." Virgilia clasped her hands underneath her dimpled chin and her smile broke into a frightening orange-lipstick grin. "Congratulations, my dear. Oh, I'm so proud of you. Remember before the games I said if it wasn't going to be Ril that they crowned as Victor, than it would surely be you. I told everyone," she affirmed. "Absolutely everyone."

Annie's eyes searched the room. She still felt groggy, but she knew the image of Ril's finally moments was lurking behind her eyes, effectively warding off any desire to go back to sleep.

She noted that Virgilia had been sitting on the edge of her bed before, but now the older woman paced the room, letting her hands fly wildly to match the excitement of her mood and words. Turning her head, and pulling her hair out of her face, Annie noticed that Mag's was sitting, small and hunched as she always was, on the other side of her bed.

The grey haired woman smiled, and brought her withered hand to her own heart in a slow gesture of understanding. Annie smiled, and reached her arms out, embracing the woman who was the second half of her mentoring team.

Virgilia was still hammering on about the crowning and the victory tour, but all Annie could feel was the warm arms of Mag's who held her tight, and rocked her in silent understanding.

Annie broke away. "Where's Finnick?"

"What…?" Virgilia's tone hardened. "Annie," she chided, "I was in the middle of telling you all about the first round of the Victors Tour. Please do not interrupt."

Virgilia had always been a hard woman to warm too. When Annie and Ril were originally introduced to her, Ril had joked that the heavily costumned woman was well past her selling date. It was nearly impossible to tell how old Virgilia really was in the luminous glow of the Capital bedrooms and dining halls, but in the daylight, Annie had noticed the deep lines that creased her eyes and mouth, and how thin wisps of grey hair could sometimes be seen untucked from the brim of her technicolor wigs.

Mag's took Annie's hand, and gestured tword the door, with so smooth a moment of her head, that Annie almost missed it.

Annie's eyes flicked to Virgilia, wondering if she had noticed Mag's gesture.

"What?" Virgilia went on, though her tone had softened a bit. "Oh, Finnick." Virgilia's lips puckered in a gesture so exaggerated that Annie was sure she was doing it unconsciously. She went on to fan herself before continuing. "He's a personal guest of President Snow this evening." She sighed, and her gaze flickered to the corner of the room to imagine the resplendency of such an event. "Along with all the sponsors who supported District 4 throughout, no doubt, will take precedence at the table." A giggle escaped the older woman's lips. "I'd wager that many a young socialite will be vying for our Mr. Odair's attention this evening. Oh," she let out a heavier, more pitiful sigh, "just imagine!"

Mag's looked equal parts murderous and annoyed.

"Well," Virgilia went on, her plucky spirits back in check with the imaginings of Finnick on her own arm, buoying her. "I suppose you'd like to get cleaned up now. Goodness, but the extraction team was afraid to touch you after all the fuss you made after they pulled you out of the water."

The water…

The deep blackness…

Ril's screaming face.

"Come," Virgilia went on. "I've had a bath drawn for you. A good hot soak is exactly what you need."

Mag's squeezed Annie's hand and kissed her lightly on the cheek before Virgilia pulled at her other arm until she was off the bed. Annie's feet were bare, but the wooden floors were glowing with a warm creamy light and they were heated to a temperature warm enough to chase away any chill. "And this hair," Virgilia admonished, pulling Annie down the hall. "I'd be surprised if it doesn't all have to be cut off, it's such a nest of tangles."

The opulence of the bathroom no longer shocked Annie as it had when she first came to the Capital. The bathtub itself was nearly as big as the bedroom she shared with Myrna at the orphanage, and she could see steam rising up from the glassy surface. Annie could smell lavender and rose perfumes wafting up from the towels and soaps as well. Two avox maids approached her quickly, but even though Annie startled from their precise touch as they removed her clothes, she worked at tempering her anxiety.

Had she really won?

How could that be when she had been sure she was about to die?

Virgilia let out a loud hiss when the avox's removed the last piece of clothing to reveal the angry black bruises that covered Annie's stomach and legs. Turning her head to the side, Annie could see similar markings on her back from the mirror's reflection.

Virgilia's hand fluttered against her mouth, aghast. Annie wanted to comfort her by telling her they didn't hurt, but that was a lie. Her whole body felt stiff and sore; like clay ready to shatter if it was ever dropped.

"Well," Virgilia said after several long silent moments passed while Annie examined her wounds. "Let's get you in the warm water, you'll feel so much better afterward. A good soak is always a wonderful balm to sooth the spirit, or so my grandmother always used to say." Even though Virgilia never actually touched Annie, she still felt the guiding force of the older woman's hand behind her.

The tub was raised, and Annie had to walk up several tiled stairs to reach the lip to step in. The water was glassy and clear as crystal. Overhead the skylight shimmered with a cobalt night and a quarter moon which glittered down in reflection to ripple in the water around her.

It reminded her of that other moon.

The moon in the arena—unnaturally full, taking up, it seemed, half of the man-made sky. An egg of a moon; a pearl in a velveteen sky.

Ril, being pulled to his knees. The blade raised. The steal of it shimmering in the moon glow.

Annie's eyes darted to the side of the tub. The tiles were designed in a pattern of red and pink roses, a design so lavish that through Annie's cloudy eyes it looked like blood spray in the water.

Ril. His mouth wide and gaping. The sound of a crunching snap. A choke of wet breath.

Annie's hands flew to her ears—the sound of Ril's last moments echoing through the very marrow of her bones.

She could feel the scream running up her throat long before she felt the burn of it as it passed her lips.

Behind her, she could make out Virgilia's insistence that everything was fine, and her shrill command for Annie to get a hold of herself. The two avox girls remained still in their separate corners, but through her panic Annie could hear the slam of the bathroom door opening and finally, as she crumpled to a heap of twisted limbs and huddled into the smallest position she could manage, she felt the warm reassuring arms of Mag's surround her.

Mag's stoked her cheek and back, gently avoiding the raw bruises, and hummed a simple lullaby until Annie managed to stop crying.

A towel was placed over Annie's nudity, but it felt like a cloak of iron over her bones.

"What happened?" It was Finnick's voice hovering above her. Annie curled herself tighter within herself, and didn't even want to look up to see the expression Mag's must have given him to explain what had happened.

"She was fine," Virgilia insisted in a huff. "She was just about to step into the water. She's fine—see? She's not _nearly_ as hysterical as she was a few moments ago."

"The water?" Finnick repeated, then more firmly, "the water!" Annie felt Mag's release her, and Finnick's arms went around her. "Up you go." He lifted her easily and held her close as he took her from the bathroom. Annie kept her hands as close to her own face as possible to hid and protect herself. "None of that," Finnick chided under his breath. "We're all winners here."

"Virgilia, my love." Finnick's tone had changed to smooth as butter again. "I think Mag's and I can take it from here, but thank you _so much_ for your kind attention."

Though she didn't look up, Annie could feel Finnick moving briskly down the halls toward Mag's part of the apartment.

"As you can image," Finnick went on, "such situations can be difficult. Until the reality of Annie's victory fully sinks in…" Annie heard a door close loudly behind her, and she startled. Finnick had taken her into Mag's bathroom. It was elegant, but far more understated that Annie's was. There was a small tub in one corner, but also a large shower enclosur toward the back with a beautiful patterned glass design. Finnick put her back on her feet, and Annie pulled the towel closer around herself like a shield. She could feel the smile in Finnick's voice. "It's alright—I understand, you don't have to explain to us. Mag's is she gone?"

Finnick moved passed her into the shower and she heard the water spurt on. It was large enough that he had to completely walk in to adjust the heat.

Mag's entered the bathroom silently, and cupped Annie's cheek apologetically.

"There you go," Finnick told her, reemerging from behind the glass. Annie noticed that the cuff of his expensive shirt was damp. "Just close your eyes if you have to, or try to focus on one thing at a time. The longer it takes to get over your fears, the longer it'll take to get back to who you are. Go on, now."

Everything that had made up who she had been felt lost to time now.

Lost to those shaking last seconds before Ril…

Annie obeyed, but she kept the towel around herself until after the glass door was closed behind her and she was sure they couldn't see her. When she was under the water she sighed in pleasure, then hissed in pain. She could feel herself starting to shake; the images from her mind darting up all around her.

"Remember the old Fisherman's song, Annie? Remember how they taught it to you in school?" Finnick sang a few verses aloud to calm her, and she found herself smiling, and then singing along with him, though it had been years since she'd even thought of the childish little rhyme. It distracted her enough to let her wash her hair out and let the water pool around her feet without frightening her.

Just over the glass she could make out Finnick's hushed whisper to Mag's. "They want to see her. I don't know how long I can make excuses." A pause elapsed for Mag's to communicate silently. "..I'm not sure. You know what—well, he's—like, and it's been more than a few years since there was a female victor this young... He'll want to extort her as much as he can. Someone—well, everyone—will pay whatever cost is set for her… I don't know if I can stop them…"


	3. Chapter 3, part 1

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Virgilia woke Annie the next morning with a team of stylists in toe to prepare her for the ceremony to crown her as victor. First they disrobed her, then lathered her body with a creamy lotion before rubbing a powder that matched her skin tone perfectly into the blackish bruises that still covered her back and legs. Afterward they combed and curled her auburn tresses and pulled the front back with bejeweled clips before they finally pushed and pulled her into an evergreen-colored day dress. Before the games her stylists had often adorned her in dark greens, rich blues, and bright turquoise to show off her complexion and ocean heritage.

"This will go perfectly with the crown," Virgilia sighed, fingering the hem of Annie's dress.

Annie's brow creased. "It will?" She couldn't remember watching the last televised victor's ceremony for a female tribute, and last years—a male tribute from district 2, was just a hazy memory for Annie now.

Gazing at her reflection in the full length mirror before her, Annie struggled with the truth of her situation. She was willing herself not to think of Ril and those last moments, or any other part of the games, but clear sharp pangs of memory kept resurfacing. When she turned her head to peak at the stylists gossiping about a friend she could also hear the pounding torrent of rain as it pelted down all around her before the dam broke and the arena filled with freezing water. Then turning back to the mirror she thought the play of overhead light looked eerily similar to the gigantic moon that filled the sky before the storm hit. The flash of a birds wings outside the window was nearly impossible to separate from the harsh angle it was held before it struck the back of Ril's neck.

"Well, don't you look lovely..!" It was Finnick's voice, and she could see him hovering in the doorway from behind her full side-swept bangs. After closing her eyes to center herself she turned, and watched as he gave her a quick lopsided smile before turning to the others. "Absolutely ravishing, Virgilia." He kissed Virgilia with a quick peck on each cheek before turning to the others. "Ladies," he gave them each a long, lingering, look. His voice turned even huskier, "_And_ Phil," turning to the only male stylist, Finnick gave the pudgy older man a sharp wink. Annie noticed that each of her stylists were shrinking into themselves with glee.

Letting out a little chuckle, which sent the rest into a tailspin of sighs, Finnick turned to Annie. "You look good—strong. Feminine."

"I shouldn't be here." She confessed, lowering her voice.

He rolled his eyes. "None of that."

"But," she stammered, lowering her voice. "I couldn't have won. Ril was—I was in the water."

Finnick sighed. "I didn't want to show you the tapes from the last hour of the games because I thought it would be too much for you, but maybe I should."

Annie looked at him blankly.

"After you ran, and the monsoon started, a couple of the weaker tributes were taken out by sinkholes, and one, when a tree fell and trampled them. Everyone else was still alive when the dam broke. There were four of you left at that point. The first two killed each other in the water—almost simultaneously. Then, the last one, the black haired boy from 1 with all the scars, was caught in a riptide and drowned. You," Finnick took both her hands in his, "swam as far away from the others as you could. That was good. I'm proud of you. You swam them out, literally. You were the last one standing—well, swimming. You are the winner."

"Are we ready," Virgilia cut in. Annie watched as the older woman put her small thin hand on Finnick's arm, beckoning him slightly with her eyes.

"Of course we are, sweetheart." Finnick held his arm out to her and she took it. Annie watched them walk out with their elbows intertwined.

Annie followed behind, and once she reached the foyer she founds Mags waiting patiently on one of the sofas. She wore a long whitish-pink gown that shimmered like light on ocean water, and her hair was tied back in long flaxen braids. Annie held her arm out to Mags, just has Finnick had done to Virgilia, and with a surprised smile of pleasure, Mags excepted.

The crowning itself was very quick. After walking up to the dais with Mags and Finnick, the only other victors from her district, flanking her, she stood and waited while President Snow flawlessly delivered a speech detailing the age old nobility of winning the games. He described her district, and after a few short remarks on Annie herself (though, she noted, most of those were taken from her earlier interviews with Ceaser Flickerman) the president turned and presented her with a glittering sliver tiara. The crowds of the capital screamed and howled with joy as he placed it atop her head and taking his hand, she allowed him to walk her to the edge of the parapet where she was able to look down on the throngs of colorful people, all vying dangerously to get a closer look at her.

After the crowd hushed, Annie gave a quick speech—prepared by Virgilia and in part Finnick, and the ceremony concluded.

"Oh, Finnick," the stylists crooned. "Won't you stay longer? Can't we persuade you?"

"I'm afraid not," he said distractedly, pulling Annie and Mags along ahead of him as they hurriedly walked to the train platform. "We're on another victory tour, and you know what they say about the capital train…?" They looked at him adoringly. He lowered his voice conspiratorially, "it waits for no man. But Virgilia," he stopped to cup his hand against the older woman's cheek. Annie could hear him lower his voice but she could still make out him saying, "It's you I'll miss most of all."

Mags pulled Annie further up the train steps. At the windows inside, she and Mags waved enthusiastically to the crowd that had gathered outside. But it wasn't until the train started to roll away that Finnick finally boarded the train, letting the door slam shut behind him.

Mags sat down with a bemused huff.

"Finally that's over with," Finnick growled.

Annie sat down beside Mags, who was busily tearing her precise hairdo apart, and watched Finnick as he paced the train car. Coming to a stop he put his hand on Mags shoulder, and a silent conversation passed between them with just one look.

"Right," Finnick said with a smile. "A drink. Annie, do you want one?"

"What is it?"

Finnick smirked. "You can have strong, or _stronger_." Mags wagged a finger at him and he laughed. "I know, Mags, always the _strongest_ for you."

He moved to the bar in the corner and prepared three glasses. When he came back he handed Annie a tumbler of dark liquid with a cluster of rosy-red cherries floating on the top. She could see that the drink he handed to Mags and the one he kept for himself were both clear with a faint bluest tint. Annie sniffed at her glass. "It's okay," he told her, sitting down across from them with a heavy sigh and taking a long pull of his drink, his face flinching slightly at the taste. Annie took a quick sip and relaxed. It tasted sugary and bubbly. Mags smiled and patted Annie's knee before turning to gaze out the window at the scenery flying by and nursed her drink.

Both Finnick and Mags were lost in their own thoughts—Annie had never seen either of them so withdrawn, but then, she had never seen them without the glare of the Capitols public eye on them. She let her eyes wander to the corner of the train car. "Are there—?" She felt Finnick raise his eyebrows at her. "—are we still being filmed?"

Finnick followed her gaze to the corner of the room, but he didn't answer her aloud. She thought his silence was more than enough of an answer.

When the sun began to set over the flat horizon Mags excused herself for bed. She kissed both Finnick and Annie on the cheek and departed. Annie watched the orange haze take over the sky before it faded into the dark grayish blue of twilight, and finally the opalescent cobalt of night.

Finnick paced around the train car like a caged animal, occasionally stopping to fix himself another drink, or to bring her another sugary concoction, but Annie was happy enough to watch the scenery wiz by. She had been too nervous the first time she boarded the train after the reaping to really stop and notice how pleasurable the experience was.

Annie noticed that Finnick was starting to look haggard.

"When do you think we'll get home?" She asked, attempting to break the silence.

He turned to face her, but he staggered slightly before he could speak. "Do you know where we are?"

She looked out at the flatness of the plains, and even though it was dark she could still make out the faint pinpricks of light from the industrial buildings far off. "District 2."

"Good." He sat down beside her, though his movements were a bit sluggish and exaggerated. "Do you know what those lights are?" Still holding his glass, he pointed with an index finger at the lights she had noticed before. "That is where they train the peace keepers. For every light you see, imagine one-hundred peace keepers."

Annie could see dozens of lights, and they went on for miles.

He smiled dazedly at her. "That is a very pretty crown."

She brought her hands up to her hair, she had forgotten that it was still on. Pulling it off she did what Mags had done and unwound the clips from her hair and shook it out.

He watched her, surprised, then laughed. "That looks better."

Annie studied the crown. It was silver, and not gold, which surprised her. The design was thin and light, petit and feminine, as a crown for a female tribute should be, she guessed. The intricacy of the patterns on it surprised her. She could make out ocean waves, mermaids, and leaping dolphins.

"Can I see it?"

She handed him the crown, and watched him finger and turn it. "The design on mine was a bit similar. Mine was gold though." His voice sounded distracted. "Mermaids, wave designs… tridents… I think there were blades, or maybe arrows and quivers…"

"You didn't keep it?"

Finnick scoffed, and biting his lip he turned the crown again and made sure she was watching while his thumb struck a catch on the inside. Annie heard a popping sound and noticed the eyes of the mermaids and dolphins move back to reveal several tiny microphones. "I was fourteen when I won my games," he went on, his voice even, unchanged, even though she herself had gasped. "But I never really noticed all the complex designs on my crown until I was seventeen." He handed the crown back to her, the silver felt hot from his skin. "I confess that since I donated it to the District 4 historical museum I haven't gone back often enough to study it thoroughly."

The crown felt like a brand in her hand. Without another word she stood and walked to the other end of the train car. She tilted one of the windows forward and without stopping to think she thrust the crown from her hand and let it fall to the black tracks below the train.

* * *

a/n: There is more to this chapter (this is the first half). I'm going to post chapter three in two parts so it's not too long for reader ease.


	4. Chapter 3, part 2

Finnick raised his eyebrows. "Oh dear," he admonished, though she could hear humor in his voice. "That was very clumsy of you."

"I know," she confessed. She had to clamp her hand over her mouth to stifle a hysterical giggle. "I can't believe I did that."

"Well you did…Now what?"

She floundered back to him, feeling as drunk as he had been when she sat back down across from him. Her heart was pounding and her blood felt thick in her veins.

Finnick leaned back and studied her, bringing his half empty glass to his lips and sipping slowly.

It was dark enough now that she could see their reflections through the glass. "You never answered my question...?" She said, breaking the silence some time later.

He looked at her blankly.

"When do you think we'll get home?"

Taking another long draft of his drink he said, "Tomorrow, mid-morning. They'll slow the train soon so we can keep to the victory tour schedule. People will need to be assembled, crowds cajoled, camera's rolling."

She could see his personality darken by the second. "Are you sad that you had to leave Virgilia behind?"

He choked on the gulp he had just taken. "No!" He said with finality.

"I'm excited to get home," she confessed. "I want to see my sister again. I'm even excited to see the orphanage again."

Finnick looked at her warily. "You realize you'll have a house in the victor's village now, everyone—the capital—expects you to live there." Annie lowered her head, she hadn't been expecting that. In a way she had hoped that things would go back to the way they were before. "I knew your parents were dead, forgive me if I never offered my condolences before now, but I don't recall it ever being mentioned that you have a sister…"

"She's not my real sister," Annie confessed dejectedly. "Not by blood, anyway. Her name's Myrna, we grew up together, shared a room at the orphanage. People have been calling us 'the sisters' for as long as I can remember and it just stuck."

"I see." His glass was empty now, but he studied its emptiness like it could reveal a thousand secrets to him.

Annie thought of going home, a notion that had thrilled her, and kept her going since she woke up back in the capital bedroom, suddenly, strangely branded a winner. She thought of Ril, though she kept the images of his final moments at bay. Instead she concentrated on memories of him after the reaping; his excitement about training, his skill at swimming and knife throwing, and the alliance they had formed.

"Does it ever get…?"

"…Better?" He finished for her.

"I still can't believe it. I feel like this," she gestured to the train car, and all the opulence around them, "all of this, is just as much of a nightmare as the games were."

He spoke very softly. "I want to be here for you, Annie. I want to help you. But you need to understand…" he didn't finish.

She pitched her voice into a whisper, feeling like a million ears were listening to them now. "Understand what?"

Finnick's look spared her nothing. "You're a winner now." He spoke with absolute finality. "But soon, eventually, you'll be a survivor. Just a survivor."

"A survivor?" she echoed. "What does that mean? What's the difference?"

He gave her a simple, lopsided grin, and in that look she could see the child he must have been once. All she knew of him was the mentor she had meet on reaping day. The boy winner who had defeated so many and had gone on to capture the hearts of everyone in the capital. Even though he was only a few years older than her, she couldn't remember a time when she didn't feel proud to be from the same district as Finnick Odair. "I don't know, Annie. I'm still trying to figure it out myself."

He stood, the empty glass hanging limply in his hand. His voice was drained. "Try to sleep… You should sleep now. Tomorrow—" he sighed deeply, "—tomorrow will be a big day."

She tried, but sleep wouldn't come. After Finnick left and she found herself alone in the train car, she found it hard to get up and face her room. The artificial room that held nothing that was hers—even the clothes had been supplied by the capital. Even the deep forest green gown she'd worn all day wasn't her own. Fingering the hemlines of the ribbed bodice and the flared skirt she thought that the dress itself, however slight and inconsequential, was like a prison of some kind. She imagined what Ril would have been doing now, had he lived, or even still, what his family would be doing when it was she, and not their son who stepped off the train. A victor; although now crownless.

Like Finnick himself, Annie didn't know much about Ril, other than the fact that he was older than she was. She knew this would have been his last year to be reaped, and that he had a family. Although she had never stopped to ask if he had a large family—many brothers and sister? Maybe only one or two? Were both of his parents still alive?

A parent was something that Annie herself had never known. She had no memories of any family other than then the ward sisters at the orphanage and Myrna, her best friend. The only details she had were a set of names: _Margaret Cresta_ and _Jeremy Cresta_ on a birth certificate, that they had both worked aboard a fishing vessel, and that both had died of drowning.

With a shock, she realized that the knowledge of their deaths hadn't affected her when she had nearly drowned. Their faces, or the gruesome knowledge of their own demise hadn't been among her last thoughts. At the time, she only wanted it to end. The pain, the games, even her life. Annie wondered now, if they had seen images of her, their infant daughter, before their own deaths, or if it had been too quick for any other that.

By the time dawn broke, pink and warm blue in the sky, she was still awake in the train car. She watched in silent relevance as they crossed the barrier from district 2 and finally pass into her home district. The train did slow, as Finnick had told her it would, and she felt them veer west toward the coast.

When the train car door swished open behind her, she didn't turn around, but she knew it was Finnick. She heard him saunter to the bar and pour himself another tumbler filled with whatever strong liquid he had partaken in the night before and he approached her with a skeptical smirk. "I had a feeling you wouldn't get any sleep."

Annie squinted up at him. He looked refreshed and clean. Better than he had the night before when he had left her with haggard eyes and a slack jaw. She wondered if he had taken one of the capital supplied sobering tablets.

"We'll be home in less than an hour." His tone was soft, but professional, lacking the warmth and comradely she had seen the night before. "Are you going to change? If not you should at least pour a bit of water on your face. I'm going to go check on Mags, she always has a hard time with things like this."

Annie looked up. "Things like what?"

"Coming home without someone, though usually we're coming back to face the families alone. This is the first time in a long time that we're bringing anyone back home with us."

"Oh." She didn't know what else to say.

"This is the fifth games that I've acted as mentor with Mags… it never gets easier… and as for Mags, before me, she had to do this all by herself too many times."

He patted and squeezed her shoulder, than left her.

They pulled into the station with a screech of metal wheels and the roar of the crowds that had been forced into the square by peace keepers.

As winner, Annie exited the car first, with Finnick and Mags closely behind her. Annie noticed that Mags had let her hair stay wild and uncombed as it had the night before when she removed the ornate hairstyle. She smiled at the tiny rebellion, and hoped that the cameras saw only gratitude at her homecoming.

Finnick pulled at her arm. "First you have to give a speech, than a quick satellite interview for the capital, than we can go home."

_Home_, she wondered. But her old home at the orphanage, or her new mansion in the victor's village?

A panicked moan made Annie look up. "Finnick!" The crowd parted ever so slightly for a thin woman to maneuver to the front of the crowd. "Please, Finnick! Please…!" The woman was crying, her face was hard and weather-beaten behind the track marks of her own desperation. Her sweater was threadbare and faded to a dull red. She had blond curls that were tied back behind her head, but several wild stands had escaped to twirl around her shoulders. "Finnick!" she yelled again.

"Who is that?" Annie asked. At first she assumed it was just another of his adoring female admirers. She remembered Virgilia at the train station, and wondered if Finnick kept an older woman in love with him wherever he went, but then she noticed the resemblance. The blond curls, and something in the eyes, and the set of their jaws.

"Is that your mother?"

Finnick tightened his hold on her arm and guided her farther down the crowd line. "She's no one."

Annie could hear the woman's strangled weeping as Finnick dragged her away.


	5. Chapter 4, part 1

**Chapter Four**

Another speech to be made—always, Annie was beginning to notice, there was another speech to be made. With each new recreation of the same capital ideals, Annie felt less and less like a human and more like a machine. The taste of Virgilia's words in her mouth felt like drowning on too much cottony air.

While she spoke, Annie searched the crowd for any familiar faces. She looked for any of the ward sisters from the orphanage, or any of the other children she had grown up with, but most of all she looked for Myrna. The only face she did recognize, however, was the woman who had cried out for Finnick earlier. The woman was more composed now than she had been earlier, but as Annie continued with her speech she noticed how the woman never took her eyes away from Finnick, who in return sat with his arms folded to the side of Annie, watching in stony composure as she spoke.

Annie was surprised by how large the crowd was, and how behind the solemnity of their forced presence, the people of district 4 actually seemed pleased that they had a victor again, and Annie could even detect pride that she had defeated the others by swimming, a faculty that was unique to their homeland.

When Annie was done speaking, the mayor of their district said a quick address, thanking her for service to Panem and district 4 before announcing that there would be a gathering and feast that night in her honor. Sometime after the outcries of jubilation erupted, Annie finally spotted Myrna.

Her best friend was crying and smiling when she rushed toward Annie, and they embraced in a hurricane of limbs and skretches.

"Oh, Annie…!" Myrna said piteously. "I was so sure I'd never see you again."

Annie hugged her tighter. "I know."

The affirmation hurt; the reality of what she had expected in the arena—her own death—had evaporated like water on hot pavement. She couldn't tell if she was really living in the moment, or living in a strange dream. She was bone-tired from lack of sleep, but she could feel adrenaline coaxing through her bloom stream at seeing her friend again, just as it had in the arena was she was fighting to stay alive.

Behind Myrna, Annie could see a gaggle of other kids from the orphanage and two of her ward sisters. She embraced each of them in turn—kids who she'd grown up with, and some so young that she had played a small part in their own upbringing. The younger kids were rough and excited, hoping and squealing with the knowledge that they knew a real winner.

Adoption was all but unheard of in district 4, occasionally a baby would be taken to another home, but so many could barely feed their own families. How could they take in another child? The process was so rare that once you found yourself within the orphanage walls, you never expected to leave them again. It wasn't a cruel place, by any means. Annie didn't know how it was in other districts, but she was proud and satisfied with how she had been raised and the life she had.

The ward sisters hugged her last. Enid was young enough to be Annie's older sister; she was tall, as so many of district 4's women were, and her faded blond hair was tied up behind a gray kerchief. Ruth, the other ward sister, was old enough to be Annie's grandmother, and she stood squat and homely as any statue, but her grin was cheerful and open.

They told Annie that they had watched every day. Even the youngest children were allowed to stay up late to watch the end. No one mentioned the tributes from the other districts, and Ril.

Annie searched the crowd. They were a large district, but not so large that they were all packed into the square. There were clear communal pockets that had formed and knowing that Ril had come from a higher class than her own, she could easily search out the right areas to start her search.

It didn't take her long to realize that they too were searching her out as well.

Ril's family was well dressed. She could tell their affluence by the style of their clothes—not new, but well cared for. She noted his mother, his father, and now that she could see, she saw a brother and sister, both younger than he was. Both still eligible to be reaped.

Annie stood silent, unsure what to say, or if she should even speak at all. She bit her lip, feeling the toe of her capitol-shinned shoe dig at the dirt.

"I—" she stammered. Annie could see their expectant faces behind the curtain of her hair; she had to fight the urge to tuck it behind her ear. "—I…"

Suddenly she felt a weight by her side, and she knew she wasn't alone. Finnick reached out for her elbow and walked with her toward Ril's family. Where had he come from? Had he been looking for Ril's family too? Annie watched as he wordlessly embraced each of them, even the little girl whose eyes, Annie could now see, were rimmed bright red from weeping. Finnick said nothing, but looked at them each earnestly. Like Mags, he seemed able to communicate fully in complete silence.

Once again, she felt as though she were back in the arena. The glossy full moon so large and high in the sky that it took up nearly all of the horizon space. So big it felt like it would crash to the ground and swallow them whole. "I'm so," the sharp twinkling steal of the blade being raised, "very, very," the sound of bone crunching, and that sickening squelch of blood spray, "sorry about Ril."

It was her fault, if she hadn't made so much noise before the careers caught them, if she hadn't immediately run away afterward. If she could have done something other than stand, frozen and terrified, watching as the blade struck him again, and again. If she had only been able to raise her own weapon. Even to just distract the one with the sword, she knew it could have given Ril the opportunity to save himself.

Ril's mother reached out to her, as silent as Finnick had been, and ominous as any ghost. She reached her arms around Annie's shoulders and embraced her with the gentle kindness of any mother. Annie melted against the woman, letting her tears roll down her cheeks as Ril's mother stroked her aching back.


	6. chapter 4, part 2

The feast, was something Annie, and many others had never experienced before. They congregated in the center square where tables upon tables were heaped with roasted meats and candied pies. Fizzy drinks flowed freely, and children ran around with died blue and purple lips. Annie had never heard so many giggles and laughter in this square before.

There had been a feast shortly after Finnick won his games, but Annie didn't remember the celebration ever being like this.

"It's been nearly a generation since we had a victor who didn't come from the career center," the mayor explained.

Annie eyed Finnick, who sat with Mags at the other end of the table. Annie and the mayor were prominently centered at the head, so as to better be seen by the crowd, and the capitol cameras that were noncelantly filming.

"Finnick was a career, wasn't he…" It wasn't a question, Annie remembered that fact now, though it seemed strange. There was an unsettling vulnerability about Finnick for someone who had won so young, and been trained from an even younger age to be a tribute. She knew so little about him.

Annie would have preferred to sit with Myrna and the others, but the capital had made the seating arraignments very clear.

When the crowd's appetite began to diminish, the mayor introduced a host of district 4 performers for the capitol's pleasure. Annie watched as a school of young girls immerged throughout the crowd, their hair braided with yellow and white flowers, who all took part in the mermaid dance—a local dance that told the story of how a young mermaid had left her life on the sea to be with the man she loved, but he was a mortal and could only walk on land. Annie had seen it performed only once before, but that was by older girls, and the choreography of the dance was modified slightly for children. After that, a group of young men came out and performed a net dance, where they staged complicated maneuvers with nets. Leaping to avoid being snared all while casting their own out to capture others. Annie had never seen this performance before, and she clapped enthusiastically when it ended.

"Well now," the mayor announced when dusk fell fully on the square of crowded people. "It has been a celebratory day and night, but all good things come to an end. Let us raise our glasses," everyone in the crowd did as they were told, "to the capital for their magnanimous generosity in providing this feast, and allowing us to take the time to sit and enjoy the performances of our heritage and culture that we otherwise would not be able to do."

The crowd applauded, but there was a hint of bitterness to it.

"I bid you all a good night," he continued. "Now our senior victors will take Annie Cresta, our newest champion, to the victor's village to show her the new home that the capital has provided for her."

Annie could see that Mags and Finnick were waiting for her, but as the crowd dispersed she couldn't help but search the dozens of faces for Myrna. They had had so little time earlier. There was so much that Annie hadn't the opportunity to say.

"Annie!" She heard Myrna call out.

Annie scanned the crowd, a wave of relief rolled off her. Myrna embraced her. "Do you really have to go?"

Annie could feel Finnick hovering behind her, impatient, she imagined, to get home. She turned her head enough to give him a sympathetic look. He all but glowered back at her. "I have to go with them," she apologized, hugging her friend again, and holding her tighter this time. "I promise I'll come to visit you at the orphanage tomorrow, all right?"

Myrna kissed her on the cheek, then hurried away as one of the ward sisters called out for her.

Finnick reached out for her elbow. "This way." His tone was strained.

"I'm sorry, I just had to say goodbye."

She saw his mouth curve up into a lopsided smile. "I understand. I'm sorry too."

Annie beamed up at him.

"The way to the 'V Ave' is pretty easy once you learn it," he told her,

""V Ave?'"

Finnick chuckled. "It' what Mags and I call it—short for Victors Avenue."

"Is that its real name?"

He shook his head. "No, it's just an inside joke, I guess. Here, cut through the square and past the mayors mansion." They passed the large house which was lined with palm trees that were twice as tall as any building. They swayed lightly in the evening breeze; their noise was a gentle swishing sound. "Then take this path." He gestured toward a small path off the paved road, and suddenly they were walking on sand, through the knee high green grass that grew closest to the shore. Annie could hear the waves crashing against the shore somewhere in the darkness beyond her. There was barely enough light to see by, and Finnick tightened his hold on her elbow. Annie held out her hand for Mags to guide her and the older woman took it.

"Just there," Finnick went on, pointing into the waxing darkness, "are the docks. Do you hear the creaking?"

Annie could hear wood grinding and groaning.

"Those are the boats." Finnick's voice took on an excited tone. "The waves are crashing them together. My boats done there."

Annie was genuinely surprised. Every boat in the harbor belonged to the capital. "You have a boat?"

She could feel Finnick clam up, and he changed the subject quickly. "Anywhere, there it is."

As they crested the last hillock the row of amber colored streetlamps came into view. They lighted along both sides of the paved street, giving way to a raised walkway and finally two rows of houses. It was too dark to be sure, but she was fairly certain that she counted six houses on each side, for a total of twelve in all.

It was eerily quiet. "It's just been the two of you here?"

The houses felt haunted to Annie. Lopsided and unlived in. Huge shells without any life to color their edges.

"That one's mine." Finnick pointed to the center most house on one side of the street. It toward over them in semi darkness. Then Finnick pointed to the house directly across the street. "That one's Mags."

Mags took her hand, and in the rich shadowy light she could see the older woman smile sympathetically at her.

"You can take whichever one you want."

Annie raised an eyebrow and bit her lip. What Finnick had just said was as strange as someone telling her that she could rename the ocean or never wake up before noon ever again. "Um—well…that one, I guess." She pointed to the house that stood beside Mags.

"Good choice," Finnick told her. "Let's get you settled."

Finnick and Mags walked her to the door. Reaching into his pocket Finnick fished out a hook of keys and unlocked the door. "They gave me all the skeleton keys," he explained. "All the other doors are locked—it's a capitol thing." He said mockingly, handing her the key that he had used to open the door. "Yours now."

Annie smiled as Finnick and Mags entered before her. _Hers_. So little had ever been truly, completely hers.

Mags flipped a switch on the wall and the hallway and adjoining room burst with bright light. Annie had all but gotten used to electricity in the capital, but before that it was a rare luxury. The orphanage only had rations for full light once or twice a week and that was in the winter only.

Looking around, Annie could see pale blue couches and lamps with silver shades. There were paintings and mirrors on the walls, and her shoes felt polished hardwood under her feet.

"Everything should be here, dishes in the cabinets, and there should be food in the pantry if you're still hungry. We can arrange for your things to be brought over from the orphanage later, if you'd like."

"I don't have very much," Annie confessed.

She ran her hand along the smooth wooden banister. It was creamy white, so rich that Annie was surprised the color hadn't stained her hand when she pulled it away.

"Do you think you'll need anything else?" Finnick asked her.

Annie was embarrassed that they had to waste so much of their time to help her, but she was terrified. The fact that this entirely large and empty house was hers was preposterous.

"Um… I don't think so." She lied.

Mags and Finnick both smiled at her. Their faces showed disbelief, but also relief that _they_ could go home.

"Alright," Finnick sighed. "Remember I'm just across the street, and Mags is right next door." Finnick stole a quick glance at the floor before meeting her eyes. "We know how strange this can all be."

Annie met his stare. "I'll be fine."

Finnick chuckled, but only slightly.

When she was alone, Annie practiced turning the light switch on and off. It was full dark now and with the lights on she could see her own reflection in the polished glass windows. She peaked through the peephole in the front door and ran her hands along the walls.

The couch was too soft and when she sat upon it she felt like she would melt clear through the mountainous cushions. In the kitchen she removed a green ceramic bowl from one of the cabinets and laid it with a slight clattering clang on the counter before she put it back.

Annie had to work up the courage to walk up the stairs. It felt like it took hours and after each step she had to stop to listen for strange sounds. As alone as she felt, she was terrified that someone might be lurking in the dark shadows of the cavernous hallways. She turned every light switch that she passed on until the whole house was bathed in rich light. There were four bedrooms on the second floor, three small and one large, with a simple bathroom at the end. The large bedroom, which she presumed to be hers, had a bed big enough to fit four people with plenty more room. The bedspread was white and grey with tan pillows and silk sheets. Sitting on the bed, Annie gave a little hop, then another. She felt a hysterical giggle erupting and clamped her hand over her mouth.

The walls, by contrast, were barren, devoid of pictures or paintings, which Annie thought was odd, considering the rest of the house was filled with them. When she opened the dresser drawers she found them empty, and when she checked the closet she realized it was sparse as well. With just a few blankets folded neatly on the top shelf, and a red raincoat hanging on a wooden hanger.

She felt drained, remembering both the events of the day, and her previous night without sleep, but she felt too strange and alone in this big house. Moving to the window she slid it upward and felt the cool breeze off the water brush up against her cheeks. She could hear the ocean, but through the darkness she couldn't make it out in the distance.

Annie took deep breath after deep breath, tasting the air that was so familiar to her, and drinking her home back into herself like a fine wine she intended to get drunk on. There was no moon above her, and she was grateful; she was afraid that moons would forever remind her of the arena and those last final chilling moments with Ril. Laying her face on her curved arm against the window sill she tried not to cry, but even through her determination she felt the tears coming. She missed the dark halls of the orphanage, and the soft snoring sounds that Myrna made while sleeping in the tiny bed across from hers.

She knew that she should get changed. Remove the dress she'd been wearing for what really was days now, and find something to sleep in. But each time she tried to get up, a creeping fear in the back of her mind stopped her.

This wasn't right. None of this was right. The nightmare of the arena had ended only for her to find herself in this strange realm of disbelief.

When she heard a scraping sound Annie jumped, startled out of the jumble of her thoughts. Poking her head out the window she noticed a light from Mags backyard flicker on, and the older woman emerged from a sliding door. As Annie watched, Mags walked through the large expanse behind their houses, wrapping a heavy shawl around her shoulders to ward off the chill as she walked. Annie watched her as long a she could, but after a certain point she could no longer make out the other woman.

Annie didn't stop to think, she pulled on the red raincoat from the closet, that, although big, fit comfortably on her, and she followed her mentor out into the darkness.


	7. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

The closer that Annie got to Mags the colder it seemed to become. She wrapped her arms around herself to keep out the chill, but the raincoat didn't do much to insulate. At first Annie didn't know what to expect when she followed Mags out behind their houses, though she knew they weren't headed toward the ocean. The soft crashing lullaby of waves was fading behind her, and after a while the soft sinking sand underfoot turned to pavement and then finally to soft dirt.

The area become more and more populated and the occasional street lamp helped guide Annie onward. When she crested the last hill, Mags and her destination became clear to her. She saw the older woman sitting slightly slumped over a gravestone in the tribute graveyard that overlooked their part of the district. Annie didn't want to get too close, but Mags seemed to know she had been followed and that Annie now stood back in hesitation. Mags put her hand out to Annie and beckoned her closer.

The grave that Mags sat beside was freshly dug and Annie palmed the newly turned earth. "Ril?"

Mags confirmed with the shake of her head.

Annie shivered again, but this time not from the cold. It could have all too easily been herself buried under there.

"It's nice of you to come out here," Annie whispered. She felt strange at the thought of speaking too loudly in such a hallowed place.

Mags made to stand up, and Annie helped her. The older woman pulled a small booklet of thick parchment from her pocket with a stubby pencil attached to it and began to hastily scribble, '_I come here to remember them_.' Annie knew that Mags had difficulty speaking from an injury to her tongue that she sustained in her own games so many years ago, but she'd also since learned that a stroke had acerbated her ability to vocalize even more.

After reading what Mags had written, Annie said, "I should have come here earlier, to remember him."

Mags took her hand and led her further into the graveyard. When she stopped, Annie looked down at the faded headstone: _**Erik Jenkins, tribute of the 13**__**th**__** Hunger Games**_.

Mags pointed at herself, then at the grave marker, and Annie understood. "_Your_ games." She looked down at the name again. "_Your_ fellow tribute."

Mags smiled sadly, then pointed at all the other gravestones that peppered the field from where they stood all the way down to Ril's. In her notebook she wrote, '_I have buried them all. I don't forget them._'

Annie took Mags' hand. She had never been here before, although she'd always known it was here, she didn't know anyone who came, besides the family members that still lived. But even then, it was something to be done without witnesses. Before being reaped she hadn't known anyone who was a relation to any tribute.

'_Families_,' Mags scribbled in her journal, '_fade_ _away_.' The wording felt ominous to Annie, she wondered if the word 'faded' meant something different to Mags. Seeing Annie's confusion Mags wrote, '_it's not easy to know and remember the ones we've lost. The _odds_ fail tributes and families alike_.'

The odds!

Annie shivered again. Every child in Panem was taught that the odds were ever in their favor.

Mags pulled her shawl closer around herself against the chill coming off the water. It was late summer, but it already felt like autumn. She patted Annie's hand, and the older woman inclined her head.

"I'm so tired, Mags." Annie said wistfully. "I feel like I haven't slept since I came out of the games. Every time I try I see it all again."

Mags cupped both sides of Annie's face and mouthed the word 'sleep.'

"I'm afraid," she confessed.

Mags just shook her head, scribbling in her notebook again. '_Fear is natural. I'm still afraid to sleep. Everyone keeps their fear_.'

Annie immediately thought of Finnick, and though he didn't seem to fear anything, she remembered how he had paced the train car on the ride back home. How his glass was continually full of that strange blue liquor. And how strained and ragged he had looked when he left her.

Mags seemed to read her mind. '_Even Finnick had his demons_.'

Annie bit her lip as Mags pulled her back from the gravestones. She let the older woman lead her back on the path toward the victor's village. "You were Finnick's mentor, weren't you?"

Mags confirmed with a head nod.

"And he was a career?"

It was easier to see Mags notebook now that they were closer to the streetlights. '_It's not normal for a career to be reaped. He was only fourteen. He was a child. He was trying to be brave. He's always just trying to be brave._'

Annie felt uncomfortable talking about Finnick when he wasn't there. She felt the hair at the back of her neck stand on end, and her bare arms through the red rain coat prickled with anxiety. She was still curious about who the woman who'd called out to Finnick earlier was, but she wasn't comfortable enough with Mags to ask.

She had never understood Finnick. When she first met him after the reaping he seemed isolated and aloof. Annie saw how focused he had been on Ril, and she took that as proof that she wouldn't make it in the arena.

The politics of the reaping, too, perplexed her. If there were so many career tributes than why were so many children from district 4 taken from the populace.

Mags had a talent for reading minds. She tapped the top of Annie's hand. In her notebook she wrote, _'The tribute center is small. We're not like 1 and 2._'

Mags was right. In the televised reaping of districts 1 and 2 that they watched every year the career tributes always volunteered. The reaping in any form had become all but extinct.

'_A child has to choose to be a part of the tribute center. We do not force anyone_,' Mags penned.

Annie still didn't understand. She had never considered, or needed to consider, joining the tribute center. "So, Finnick choose to be a career…?"

Mags focused on her writing. '_The choice is never easy_.'

By now they had walked back to the victor's village, but rather than reemerging back behind their houses they were towards the front where the tall iron gate rose above them like a jail made out of rigged snakes.

Annie couldn't help but notice that there was a light on in one of Finnick's upstairs rooms.

With a silent farewell, Mags kissed her on the cheek and disappeared into the darkness of her house. She pointed an accusatory finger toward Annie and again mouthed the word 'sleep.'

Exhaustion seemed to pull Annie down toward the ground. Her knees felt weak, and she knew she had to try to sleep. Her thoughts were all muddled and felt like they were turning to thick ash in her mind. She gave Finnick's house another quick glance, the light still yellow bright behind the closed curtain, before closing herself back inside the empty house.

* * *

a/n: I wanted to be true to both the novel and the film adaptation regarding Mags character. I think it's equally interesting that she suffered damage to her vocal ability, and that she had a stroke, so I'm using both for my story.

Thanks for reading :)


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